


we were the Protagonists of the world

by silentlypunk



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, No angst tho, akaashi has 3 sisters, i make him cry, the entire fkrdn team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 12:36:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentlypunk/pseuds/silentlypunk
Summary: “Oh my god,” someone drawled, delighted. “I didn’t think he’d actually let you blindfold him.”“Trust is an important factor in relationships, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said dryly.“Kenma would never let me blindfold him,” Kuroo sighed. There was some shuffling, and a loud smack, then Kuroo groaned. Akaashi took that to mean that Bokuto had probably injured him somehow.





	we were the Protagonists of the world

**meeting.**

“Hey hey hey, first-year. You smell nice.”

The first-year in question stiffened and turned around to look at him. 

Komi jumped up and whacked Bokuto across the head. 

“That was creepy!” he scolded, as Bokuto whined about his new injury. He turned to the shocked first-year and smiled. “Sorry about that! This guy’s a nutjob.”

Bokuto leered at him. “Is this how you should be speaking to your vice-captain? And by the way,” he pushed Komi to the side and waved his hands indignantly. “I’m not a nutjob! You’re Akaashi, right? The new setter!”

Akaashi blinked at him and bowed slightly. “Yes, Bokuto-senp —“ Komi shook his head frantically at him. “—uh—“ Sarukui waved from across the gym and repeatedly made a big X with his arms. “—um, Bokuto _-san_.”

Bokuto flipped off his fellow teammates with a sour look and turned back to Akaashi. “You can call me senpai if you want,” he said, sweetly.

From somewhere behind them, Konoha let out a high-pitched shriek, despite the coach yelling at them to concentrate. Akaashi bit his lip to subdue a smile; Bokuto scowled and deflated a little. 

“Okay, forget it,” Bokuto grumbled. “Assholes. But seriously, why do you smell nice?”

“Uh...I have three older sisters?”

“Wow!"

“So the whole house smells of perfume...”

Bokuto nodded like he knew exactly what he meant.

“I have a kid sister who smells like poo,” he said cheerfully, “So I don’t know what you mean at all. Anyway, toss for me! It’ll do good to break you in!”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes, but didn’t object, simply catching the ball thrown in his direction.

 

 

 

The next day in Music, their teacher decided to explore western nursery rhymes.

“We’ll be covering three songs today,” she announced, seating herself at the piano. “Does anyone know _Little Miss Muffet, Ring Around the Rosie_ or _Lavender Blue_?”

A couple hands rose tentatively in the air, but most students simply wore curious looks on their faces, Bokuto included. 

“That’s good.” She nodded, satisfied. “I hope by the end of the lesson you will all have a favourite out of the three. Let’s begin with some warm-ups...”

 

 

 

Konoha ranted about his lesson over lunch.

“Everyone was cooing over _Lavender Blue_ ,” he grumbled, munching his sandwich. “Is it really that cute?”

“It is!” Bokuto argued. “I like the King and Queen thing!”

Konoha made a face. “Bleh. I liked the sneezing one better. Washio, do you have a favourite?”

He didn’t look up from his lunch as he replied, “Little Miss Muffet.”

“Eh, how come? Just because you’re chicken like her?”

“I can see the rubber spider you’re holding, you know.”

Konoha pouted. “You’re no fun,” he sighed, throwing the fake spider onto the table where it bounced to a stop in front of Bokuto. Komi picked it up and wiggled its little rubbery legs. “We haven’t had the lesson yet,” he said. “It’s the period after lunch. What’s this about muppets?”

“Muffet,” Washio corrected him.

“Western nursery rhymes,” Konoha said. “Get ready to hear about spiders, pollen allergies, and royal marriages. Adorable stuff for itty bitty kids, right?”

Sarukui clicked his chopsticks. “Not in the same song, I hope.”

“Oh, nah. There’s three of them.”

“The royal one is cute!” Bokuto insisted. “Even though I don’t know what lavenders smell like. But I like that one best!”

The table fell quiet.

“How do you not know what lavender smells like,” Konoha finally said.

“Well maybe I do but I didn’t know that was it?”

Sarukui shrugged. “Just go sniff some handcream or something at a shop,” he suggested. “Or maybe your parents might have some?"

“Don’t do drugs,” Komi said.

“I said handcream, not glue. Are you listening?”

They continued to bicker until lunch was over, at some point Shirofuku snuck over to steal from Sarukui’s bento, and Bokuto contributed to the general mess by shouting “King and Queen! The King and Queen thing is cute! The lavender is cute too!”

 

 

 

When the volleyball team was changing in their locker room before practice, Konoha leaned over to Bokuto and whispered, “Akaashi smells like lavender.”

Bokuto was thinking about buying his kid sister a fish, so he just replied vaguely, “Ok.”

Halfway through practice at a five-minute break, he grabbed Konoha with sudden realisation and demanded, “Did you say Akaashi smells like lavender?”

Konoha slapped him with his towel. “It’s nearly been two hours!”

“Sorry, sorry. So that’s what lavender smells like?”

“Yes!”

“Eh...” he glanced over at Akaashi, where Shirofuku had cornered him and was discussing something with him. “I said he smelled nice yesterday. So lavender smells nice, huh?”

“I don’t particularly like it, but I guess.”

“Konoha, I’m gonna make us the best ace/setter combo that ever existed.”

Konoha snorted as they watched her walk away and Akaashi turn and walk towards them. “Yeah. You do that.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**friendship.**

Before they even realised, they were less than a week before summer holidays, and their captain was making arrangements for the annual summer training camp.

Bokuto’s boundless excitement at the prospect transferred into boundless energy during practice transferred into making Akaashi, who at this point had somehow quickly become “his exasperated but secretly fond friend” with his consistently adaptive tosses and kinda shit stamina (and a signature “exasperated but secretly fond eye-roll”, which he did a lot), stay behind to set for him so he could hit something and feel good about it.

“You know you can practice serving alone, right?”

“That’s not as fun, Akaashi! Just a bit more!”

And he would always stay behind and roll his eyes even as the “bit more” dragged on from the promised ten minutes to half an hour to two more hours.

( _How is this “a bit more”!!_ Akaashi yelled internally, exhausted to the bone, but never dared to object to his glowing upperclassman.)

(Yet.)

 

 

 

After three days of gruelling over-practice, Akaashi put his foot down.

“Bokuto-san,” he said, catching his school bag strap just before he ran off to the clubroom. “I won’t be able to stay with you today.”

A crestfallen expression fell across him. “But spiking practice!”

Akaashi sighed. “Instead, come over to my place. Let’s do some homework before the training camp. Like the captain advised yesterday.”

“That’s even worse than no spiking practice, Akaashi.”

 

 

 

There was a slender woman sitting on the stairs writing something when Akaashi opened the door, Bokuto peering from behind his shoulder.

“Sakura-nee, I’ve brought a friend home.”

Bokuto gave her a little wave. “Hi.”

Sakura looked exactly like her little brother — delicate features, long lashes, heavy-lidded blue eyes, wild black curls that had been tamed into a ponytail. When she stood up, she barely reached Akaashi’s shoulders.

“A friend?” Sakura flipped her notebook shut and peered curiously at Bokuto, who was trying (and failing) to hide behind her brother. “Keiji, you’ve never brought a friend home in your life. What’s the occasion?”

Akaashi scowled at her. “Just homework.”

“Yeah!” Bokuto perked up. “Cus Akaashi’s real smart!”

Akaashi scowled even harder, and Sakura grinned. “In this house you’re gonna have to call him Keiji, or four other people are gonna respond.”

Bokuto blinked. “I’m gonna have to —?” “This is Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interrupted forcefully, stiffer than usual. His ears were dark pink. “He’s the vice-captain and ace of our volleyball team.”

Sakura’s eyes gleamed. “Interesting. Come right in, Bokuto-kun. Let’s have a chat about my dear little brother. Mother, Riko-chan, Keiji brought someone home, can you believe it?”

“I’m right here, Sakura-neesan,” Akaashi growled, and nudged Bokuto into the house.

 

 

 

“Akaashi, your whole family smells like lavender, it’s amazing!”

From the living room came the faint shout of “Bokuto-kun, first names only!” and Akaashi shut his room door firmly behind them.

“I brought you here to escape physical fatigue, and I get mental fatigue instead,” Akaashi muttered, ignoring Bokuto and flopping onto his bed. “Why me. Why this. Why today, of all days, are two of my sisters at home along with my mother. Why.”

Faced with no such concerns, Bokuto began poking curiously around Akaashi’s room.

“Bokuto-san, I will make you regret it if you open that.”

Bokuto slowly removed his hand from one of the desk drawers and turned around to smile sheepishly at him. “Sorry ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi sighed and gestured to their bags in the corner. “Let’s make a start. We’ve been delayed long enough.”

 

 

 

“Bokuto-san, you’re dozing off. Do you need a break?”

While Bokuto struggled and complained about the workload, Akaashi slowly pushed him back to lean against the bed, books open and forgotten on their laps.

“Agghaaasssheee I can’t help it,” he groaned, waving his arms around as if to fight off the tiredness. “Your room smells like you! It’s distracting! It’s making me sleepy!”

“Which one is it?” Akaashi leaned back beside him and laced his fingers on top of his stomach. “Do I distract you or make you sleepy?”

Bokuto turned his head to grin at him. “Both.”

He watched Akaashi’s eyes flutter shut, so he did the same and they sat in silence for a while.

“Hey, hey Akaashi,” Bokuto murmured. “You smell nice.”

Akaashi kept his eyes closed and replied, “I smell like my room and everyone else in my family, Bokuto-san. There’s nothing special about it.”

“Nah. You smell a bit different from them, still lavender, but different. I like it.”

He didn’t respond, so Bokuto made himself comfortable, hummed a soft lullaby, and took a nap.

 

 

_Lavender blue dilly dilly_

_lavender green..._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**ascension.**

Their captain traced his finger up to where they’d been eliminated at semi-finals and sighed.

“Well,” he said, turning to the rest of the team. “It’s up to you guys next year. Make us proud. Komi, you get to be full-time libero now, instead if sharing with our injured one here. Bokuto, remember what I said about control. And Akaashi, it’s been great working with you. It’s been great working with all of you, and I know that the ace will lead us to victory next year, won’t you?”

The team bowed as one to the two remaining third-years.

“I won’t disgrace the number eleven,” said Komi.

“And I won’t disgrace my number four,” vowed Bokuto. “Thank you, captain.”

Akaashi nodded. “Thank you for the opportunities. Thank you for the memories.”

Their ex-captain grinned at him. “Now, now, vice-captain. There’s plenty more memories to make with your new captain.”

Akaashi glanced at Bokuto, who grinned at him and stuck his tongue out. “I’m gonna make you scream at Nationals again!”

The team laughed, and Akaashi flushed pink. “No you won’t,” he retorted, childish for once.

“Yes I will!”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Oh Akaashi-kun,” the ex-captain laughed. “I think you probably will.”

Akaashi scowled, and Bokuto stuck up a cheeky peace sign.

“Just focus on your study leave, captain.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**number four.**

Just a few days before the end of the school year, the morning announcements tilted the entire world on its axis.

“...finally, we are pleased to announce that in this year’s national high school sports confederation rankings, placing number 4 in Japan’s national high-school boy’s volleyball team aces, Fukurodani Academy’s very own Bokuto Koutarou of class 2-1! Congratulations!”

The intercom crackled, and the entire class swivelled around to stare at him, where he sat stunned into rare silence.

“Heh?”

At that moment, Komi slammed open their classroom door and screamed, Sarukui close behind.

Konoha pushed them in and all three of them fell into the classroom.

The bemused class started clapping.

Komi was the first to recover, sprinting through the aisle and tackling Bokuto, who fell from his chair with a painful crash.

“HOLY BALLS, BOKUTO!” he bellowed, shaking him violently. “NATIONAL NUMBER FOUR!”

Bokuto rubbed the back of his head, eyes dazed. “I’m number four?” he asked.

Konoha and Sarukui jumped on top of them, laughing like maniacs, pride shining in their eyes.

“Good one, ace!” “You show ‘em, captain!” “It’s ‘cause of the straight, isn’t it? You finally got a clean one in the elimination rounds! Not that your crosses are bad (lol).” “God _damn,_ that’s so cool! _National number four!_ ”

Washio entered the classroom, gave the shocked class teacher an apologetic bow, and began pulling them off each other with little success.

“Congratulations,” he said gruffly, with a hint of a grin. Sarukui took the chance to pull him to the ground.

Bokuto, sprawled on his back under the mass of rowdy teammates, was still blinking in shock.

_Me? Number four? NATIONAL number four?? Me??? National?? Number four?? ME?—_

The class teacher huffed fondly. “Let him breathe,” she sighed, resigned to the mess in the back as the rest of the class chattered excitedly.

The classroom door slammed open once again, and Akaashi stood there panting, eyes uncharacteristically wild.

“Eyyy!” Konoha lept to his feet and dragged him to the pile in the back, the class teacher grinning now. “Bokuto, look who’s here, our little kouhai!”

Bokuto propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Akaashi.

“I’m number four?” he repeated.

Akaashi knelt next to him and squeezed his arm.

“Nationally,” he whispered. “Congratulations, Bokuto-san.”

The class teacher chuckled. “Rise and shine, national number four.”

“Oh my god,” Bokuto said, eyes growing brighter by the moment. “Oh WOW!”

Several of his classmates whistled.

“GUYS!” He jumped to his feet, pulling everyone up with him. “HEY! I’M NATIONAL NUMBER FOUR!!”

“WE KNOW!” half of them shouted back.

Throwing open a window, Bokuto leant halfway out of it and let out a gloriously deafening roar of victory. The team cheered and engulfed him again.

Caught amidst the chaos, Komi and Konoha began a rousing chorus of We Are The Champions, and Bokuto grabbed Akaashi round to the shoulders to pull him into a quick bear hug.

“ _Thank you,_ ” he whispered, as Akaashi let out an undignified squeak.

For the rest of the day, glowing with victory, all Bokuto could smell was the faint whiff of lavender, and all he could hear was Akaashi’s soft reply.

“ _Anytime._ ”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**third year.**

Over the span of the next year, many things happened to the Fukurodani boys’ volleyball team.

In April, they were joined by ten first-years and left with six, one of them being Onaga Wataru, who Bokuto proclaimed was the “best damn middle blocker” he’d ever seen. (Akaashi tried not to think about how they barely had a year to work together.)

Bokuto perfected his straight spike, which painted lines in the Spring Tournament but didn’t make it past the blockers in the quarter-finals, so he vowed to train even harder with a hard gleam in his eye and his team by his side. (Konoha let out an exasperated huff and told him to wipe those stupid tears off his face if he was so damn determined to win.)

Out of the five third-years, Konoha, Washio and Sarukui received start-of-term confessions, which led to one successful relationship (Washio) and a highly discouraged captain and libero, which led to a joint yakiniku trip paid for by the coach because “they deserved it after all their hard work last year, so keep it going this year too”. (The bill was quite expensive.)

They met Karasuno and their freak combo, one of who was, as Sarukui very eloquently put it, “the small orange version of our captain”. Through some weird twist of interests, Akaashi was introduced to Ennoshita and suddenly became hooked on photography, to which Bokuto had struck a pose responded “Cool! So now you can take pictures of me in all my ace-y glory!” and Akaashi had stared flatly at him until he sulked and went to practice his serves. (He did end up with a few good practice shots though.)

The rest of Akaashi’s family apparently liked Bokuto so much that he didn’t really want to bring the ace around anymore, much to everyone else’s disappointment. (“You two were doing so well,” sighed Riko, who Akaashi — Akaashi Keiji — glared at, then muttered something along the lines of how he’d been over so many times that he was starting to smell a little like lavender as well and Keiji really preferred the usual marshmallow scent, then Kiko laughed at him and they nearly started a sibling spat over the issue of one Bokuto Koutarou.)

They underwent a new, harsher training regiment, which pushed and improved them from August through to November, taking experience from the training camp matches as well as what they came to call “3rd Gym tactics” (proudly named by Bokuto, of course).

They faced Nekoma in the Tokyo Representatives and won. (Kuroo was well pissed about that, but they got through anyway, so he punched Bokuto and called it even, then the team had to pull them apart before it turned into a full on “bro-fight”.)

They went on a new year’s group trip to a shrine nearby after a practice session, and they prayed for various different things and talked about it afterwards, even though “you’re not supposed to tell anyone or they won’t come true, Bokuto-san,” “But Akaashi if I don’t tell anyone I’ll explode! What if I just gave you a hint?” ”That’s not how it works...” ”The hint is _us_ and _Nationals_.” “...” “Come onnnn Akaash’ play along once in a while.” (It was victory, he’d prayed for victory.)

They faced Itachiyama in Nationals and won. (Akaashi managed to not scream very loudly.)

They won Nationals. (Akaashi screamed _very loudly_ and proceeded to start _crying_ , which was really fucking weird and of course the team took thousands of photos to commemorate the moments of Akaashi tearily hiccuping as Bokuto bandaged his fingers and awkwardly patted his back as reassurance.)

And suddenly all everyone could talk about was entrance exams, study leave, and how Bokuto had been scouted by the national team. (This meant he would potentially be training overseas with the likes of Ushijima Wakatoshi and possibly Oikawa Tooru for months on end, whereas Kuroo had been increasingly indecisive about whether he wanted to continue volleyball or go pursue a bio-chemistry degree, or maybe find a way to balance both. )

And suddenly they had gained a massive fanbase, stronger than it was before despite it only being about a month left, and more aggressive, because all of them received hordes of admiration letters. Previous to their big win, students had called Bokuto “so energetic that he could cause an earthquake”. Now they argued that the earthquake was one of fun and charisma, not destruction and mood swings. Confessions were made and surprisingly rejected because they really needed to focus on entrance exams and that was difficult enough in the first place, _Akaashi can’t you do something_? (They saw a vicious light gleam in his eyes, and kinda felt sorry for the innocent fanbase, because damn their vice-captain could be outright demonic.)

And suddenly all Akaashi could think about was that the soul and spirit and ace of the Fukurodani boys’ volleyball team was going to graduate in a few weeks and leave him behind, and there was abso-fucking-lutely nothing he could do about it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**graduation i.**

The sakura trees were in full bloom on their graduation day, and Bokuto had been dancing around taking photographs with his classmates, his teammates, his teachers, whooshing his little sister through the air, pretending tears weren’t dripping down his face when he received his diploma, and making excuses to avoid Akaashi until he finally cornered the emotional captain in front of the gym where a magnificent sakura was flourishing.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, mildly irritable and pretending not to notice Konoha and Komi leading Bokuto Kiyo around, hiding behind a bush. “Please let me say my goodbyes too.”

Bokuto gulped and buried his hands in his blazer pockets, rumpling his diploma. For once his tie was neat and his blazer immaculate; Bokuto could tell that Akaashi was itching for a photograph to document this miracle.

“But Akaashi,” he said solemnly, and Akaashi couldn’t help thinking that he much preferred his boisterous captain over this sad, serious one. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

Akaashi twisted his fingers together behind his back and sighed. “Then at least stay still for long enough for me to give you this.”

Bokuto blinked his sad eyes at him. “This?”

“A graduation gift.” Akaashi brought out a small dark blue satchel from his trouser pocket and placed it in his outstretched palm.

Bokuto’s mouth dropped open as he traced the delicate silver threads entwined in the soft cotton fabric.

“So pretty,” he breathed out, reverent. “What is this, Akaashi? Did you make it?”

“Yes. It is a perfume satchel.”

The air was thick with the sweetness of sakura, but Bokuto pressed the satchel to his nose and caught the scent of faint lavender inside.

_Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m gonna cry, goddamnit._

“It smells like you.”

Akaashi let out a soft exhale. “Yes.”

He could sense that there were words in his vice-captain’s throat struggling to be released from its calm prison, so he gulped down a shaky sob and stared at Akaashi through tear-filled eyes.

Watery golden met fierce blue, and in a startling moment, Akaashi grabbed his lapel (Komi gasped audibly and Konoha shushed him frantically, while little Kiyo collected sakura petals from the ground) and hissed, lowly, “ _Don’t forget about me.”_

Bokuto smashed the heels of his palms furiously against his eyes, laughed brokenly, and grinned at him. “Hey hey hey,” he croaked out. “Who do you think I am? Some ungrateful twat? Mean, Akaashi. ”

With the hand that held the satchel tightly in a fist, Bokuto thumped it lightly against Akaashi’s thick curls, then pulled him into a hug.

“Of course I fucking won’t. You better not, either! Or I’ll get really mad!”

Akaashi’s shoulders were shaking, but his voice was steady and proud when he replied, “Of course I fucking won’t.”

The air was cloying with pink sakura, but all Bokuto could smell was bruised-blue lavender.

Kiyo toddled up to them, arms full of petals, and let the little shower loose at their feet.

 

 

When Bokuto got home, face blotchy with emotion, the first thing he did was rip off the second button of his school blazer and tie it to the satchel with a golden piece of ribbon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**apart.**

“So,” Konoha propped his chin up with his fist. “Have you guys heard from Bokuto lately?”

“Isn’t he training in China or something?” Sarukui set down his drink and sighed. “God I wish I wasn’t doing my sociology degree.”

“Like I said from the beginning; why did you pick that?”

“It seemed interesting at the time.”

Akaashi tapped his fingers on the table, uncomfortable in his uniform. “Bokuto-san is in Shanghai,” he said. “Kuroo-san said the training’s been going well, and they’ll be back in two weeks’ time. Meanwhile, Oikawa-san has sorted out the house they’re renting together, and invites us to visit once they’ve fully settled in.”

Sarukui frowned. “Two guys doing the same degree, and yet Oikawa is so much better off than I am.”

“Why isn’t Bokuto telling you this himself?” Washio asked gruffly.

Akaashi’s mouth was twisted firmly into a “stupid captain” smirk. “He dropped his phone in the toilet and hasn’t been able to get a new one yet, but he promised to be in touch once they get back.”

The university students roared with laughter. “Classic Bokuto!”

 

 

 

[From: Kuroo-san: is there any specific reason why he smells s l i g h t l y like lavender it’s driving me insane.]

[From: Kuroo-san: this has gotta be in one of your weird lists so tell me plEASE]

[To: Kuroo-san: That would be my graduation gift, I think.]

[From: Kuroo-san: the fucking blue satchel? bitch]

[From: Kuroo-san: akaashi-kun, i FUCKING HATE THE SMELL OF LAVENDER!!!]

[To: Kuroo-san: I’ll take that as a compliment]

[From: Kuroo-san: ugh if i even go near it he gets weirdly defensive]

[From: Kuroo-san: what kind of spell did you put on it you setter witch]

[To: Kuroo-san: Wow.]

[From: Kuroo-san: i am Suffering, akaashi-kun]

“Akaashi, your ears are red,” Konoha sang. “Did one of your fangirls finally get to you?”

“It will be a cold day in hell when that happens, Konoha-san.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**symbol.**

[From: Bokuto-san: [image attached]]

[From: Bokuto-san: my new plant!!!!]

[To: Bokuto-san: Is that a lavender sapling?]

[From: Bokuto-san: o(≧∀≦)o]

[From: Bokuto-san: i promise not to kill it]

[To: Bokuto-san: Why did you get it?]

[From: Bokuto-san: bday shopping w/ oikawa]

[From: Bokuto-san: he got his boyfriend a cactus( ＾ｪ＾)]

[From: Bokuto-san: i didnt want to be left out]

[To: Bokuto-san: Please take good care of it.]

[From: Bokuto-san: Akaaaashi have more faith in me!!(｀ε´)]

[From: Bokuto-san: it makes my room smell nice ( ♡ᴗ♡ )]

[From: Bokuto-san: im gonna name it SETTER 5]

[To: Bokuto-san: I’ll come see how it’s doing, so]

[From: Bokuto-san: I’LL KEEP IT ALIVE FOR U]

 

 

 

“Bokuto-san, it hasn’t even been a week.”

Akaashi stroked a dry leaf and sighed, glancing towards Bokuto who was shifting guiltily in the corner. “Potted lavenders need watering most in the summer, you know.”

“Of course I knew that!”

They could hear Oikawa laugh from next door. “Bokkun, the shop owner even gave you an instruction manual!” he shouted through the wall. “Did you even keep it with you?”

“Shut it, Oikawa!” Bokuto pounded his fist on the wall between their rooms and frantically whirled around to face Akaashi. “Akaash’ I DID read the manual! It said lavenders grow best on their own!”

Akaashi had already taken out his water bottle and was hydrating the drooping little lavender. “In the wild, yes. Not potted ones.”

“Oh.”

He set down the glass and turned around, mouth set decisively in an amused “what would you do without me” line. “Will you set a reminder on your phone or will I have to text you everyday?”

Bokuto blinked his wide golden eyes at him and grinned.

 

 

 

[To: Bokuto-san: Please water the lavender.]

[To: Bokuto-san: Please water the lavender.]

[To: Bokuto-san: Please water the lavender.]

[To: Bokuto-san: Bokuto-san, did you lose your phone again? It has been three days.]

[To: Oikawa-san: Did Bokuto-san lose his phone?]

[From: Oikawa-san: LOL Akaa-chi! If you’re so worried just come visit (∩´∀｀)]

[From: Oikawa-san: He’s been watering it, but I think he left his phone somewhere in the gym and hasn’t found it since lol]

[From: Oikawa-san: Sometimes I can hear him singing “my little setter, my baby setter 5” as he’s watering it]

[From: Oikawa-san: Oops does that make you jealous~? 。◕‿◕｡]

[To: Oikawa-san: Please tell him to text back if you see him with his phone. Thank you]

[From: Oikawa-san: Anything for Bokkun’s favvv (。╯ᴗ╰)～♡]

 

Akaashi wondered if the little lavender plant would survive the summer, and reminded himself to check up on Bokuto more often while trying to convince himself that it absolutely wasn’t an excuse to snatch Bokuto’s attention away from his plant and onto the real “setter 5”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**professional.**

“Konoha-san, it is exam season for all of us.”

Looking at Akaashi’s flat expression, Sarukui leaned over and smacked the top of his head.

“What on earth was that for?” Akaashi rubbed his head and glared at him.

Sarukui rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna miss our dear old captain’s first official game on the national team, are you? Have a little spirit, Akaashi-kun.”

“The match is streaming at 11pm on a Tuesday evening and will be lasting for roughly 3 hours.”

Komi pumped his fist. “Sleepover!”

Akaashi sighed and looked pleadingly at Washio. “Washio-san, say something about this, please...”

To his dismay, Washio shrugged. “It’s an occasion worth exception.”

Faced with a wall of opposition, Akaashi gave in.

Never would he admit that he’d planned to stay up and watch it alone anyway.

 

 

 

[From: Riko-neesan: i can’t believe this]

[From: Riko-neesan: our little keiji finally learned to have fun]

[From: Kiko-neesan: have fun!!!!]

[From: Kiko-neesan: wish him luck from us!!!]

[To: Kiko-neesan: I think they’re not allowed phones for five hours prior to the match.]

[From: Sakura-neesan: Keiji’s first sleepover :’))]

[From: Sakura-neesan: We won’t mind if you play hooky on the next day ;))) they’ll look after you!]

[From: Mother: Do send me your friend’s address. Enjoy the match]

[From: Father: This is a rare opportunity for you... Make the most of it....]

[From: Riko-neesan: don’t have TOO much fun if you know what i mean]

[To: Riko-neesan: Of having three sisters you are the absolute worst]

[To: Riko-neesan: Never meet Kuroo-san. Ever.]

[From: Riko-neesan: bokuto would introduce me]

[To: Riko-neesan: I won’t let him. Try me.]

 

“Akaashi, do you want coke or sprite?” Konoha called over the ruckus of Komi and Sarukui arguing over the pros and cons (??) of having a large chicken platter versus an entire roast pig.

“No thanks,” Akaashi called back, fiddling with the streaming website. “Save it for later. I’m gonna go change out of my uniform.”

Minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom in an old t-shirt, found the team deadly quiet huddled around the laptop, and felt a thrill run down the back of his spine.

_It’s started._

The national anthem started playing onscreen, and the team slowly began to parade in to form a straight horizontal line.

“There he is!” Konoha hissed. “There’s Bokuto!”

“The bastard,” Komi groaned. “It’s his first newbie match and he gets to stand in team formation!”

“He suits white better,” Akaashi mumbled, then clapped his hand over his mouth.

“Why is Kuroo on the bench?” Sarukui peered closely at the screen. “And huh, there’s Oikawa too. Isn’t this usually the match where they break the newbies in?”

“There’s a lot of old team members still,” Washio pointed out. “Perhaps with Oikawa’s old injury and Kuroo torn between his degree, they decided to let the more focused ones play first.”

“Akaashi’s right.” Konoha turned around to wiggle his eyebrows at him. “White does suit him better. Red kinda tones down the shock factor.”

Akaashi stared pointedly at the screen and pretended not to hear him. “I didn’t say that.”

“There’s no point in denying it, vice-captain, your face could fry an egg. Just say that you like the man in white.”

 

 

 

[To: Bokuto-san: Well done on the match]

[From: Bokuto-san: YOU WATCHED IT!!!!!!]

[To: Bokuto-san: [image attached]]

[To: Bokuto-san: joint viewing party]

[To: Bokuto-san: we’re all. very proud]

[To: Bokuto-san: Even though you only played for like 20 mins]

[To: Bokuto-san: Come visit when you are free]

[To: Bokuto-san: I’ll set for you as long as you want]

[To: Bokuto-san: hello? you here, Bokuto-san??]

[From: Kuroo-san: he is SOBBING GROSSLY into my SHOULDER what did you DO]

[To: Kuroo-san: Pleade tqke care offf him]

[From: Kuroo-san: UGHDHDHJSK]

[From: Kuroo-san: he told you to go to sleep bc it’s 3am on a school night you naughty child look at those typos you’re making]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**accident.**

The ball hit the ground, the last whistle sounded, and the auditorium exploded.

Bokuto leapt over the banister, tripped over a stray towel, grabbed Akaashi around the waist, lifted him off the ground and spun him around.

“TWO YEARS IN A ROW!” he hollered, while Akaashi swiped the sweat off his forehead and gasped for breath. “WE DID IT, AKAASHIII!!! THIS IS OUR LEGACY, TWO YEARS OF NATIONALS CHAMPIONS —”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi wheezed, pushing at his shoulders. “You weren’t — on the team —“

“Spiritually, I was.” He pressed his cheek into the underlined number 5 and began spinning again, humming happily into Akaashi’s stomach.

Cautiously approaching them and trying to avoid Akaashi’s long flailing legs in midair, Onaga asked, “Akaashi-san, are you alright?”

Bokuto placed the setter gently on the ground, grinned at him once more, then turned, shouted, “ONAGA YOU SICK BASTARD, YOU GOT EVEN TALLER!” and engulfed him in a hug.

“You said that the last time you visited school, Bokuto-san,” the second-year groaned, trying to escape the vice that had captured him.

Akaashi pressed a trembling hand to his hammering chest, from the game or from the surprise lift he did not know; someone slapped his back, and he turned around to see Kuroo’s snarky grin.

“Nice game,” he said. “Don’t have a heart attack yet, because I gotta beat you to a pulp to avenge Kenma later.”

“I won’t let you,” Bokuto called from where he was congratulating the rest of the team. “Let me fight for you, Akaashi! We’ll beat those dumb cats up again!”

“Please don’t,” Kenma breathed out faintly, across the net where Lev was holding him up. “I’ve been beat up enough.”

Akaashi straightened himself the best he could and cleared his throat. “The team needs to line up, Bokuto-san, get out of the way,” he tried to say.

What he actually ended up saying was, “Captain, we need to take our bows.”

Bokuto froze.

Somewhere behind the banister, Komi was cackling, loud and clear over Konoha’s sniggering and Sarukui’s muffled giggles.

Akaashi slapped a hand to his flushed face and backtracked, “I didn’t — I’m the captain, I meant — we need to —“

What happened next was disputed between the witnesses for years to come.

The most reliable witness, Shirofuku, who at the time was talking to Suzumeda by the benches, produced an account that everyone ultimately agreed was what had happened:

A general hush of silence spread across the Fukurodani side of the court.

Washio’s jaw dropped in the most comical expression of shock.

Bokuto’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head, like the goldfish his little sister adored. 

Akaashi stammered and spluttered incoherently until he clamped his mouth shut, upon which a wide variation of emotions flashed across his face.

Horror. Anger. Regret. Frustration. Determination.

Then he marched up to Bokuto, punched his shoulder, snapped “You _stupid_ captain”, and kissed him square on the mouth.

Finally, steaming scarlet red and with his pupils blown wide, Akaashi shoved him out of the court, shouting at the team to line up.

Nothing else happened after that, because the team got swept up in a flurry of celebrations, and by then the old players had all disappeared.

And for the last few weeks of Akaashi’s high-school life, he heard nothing more from his rowdy senpai. He tried not to think about it, but he maybe slightly kind of really missed the horribly butchered versions of his name and the blooming feeling that came with it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**graduation ii.**

On graduation day, Konoha and Shirofuku went to school with a mission.

“Konoha-san, I need to take photographs with my family,” Akaashi protested as they bodily dragged him away in front of a lot of classmates. “Where are you taking me?”

Shirofuku looked back and _winked_ at him. “He took the day off from training to do this, you know.”

Akaashi’s eyes widened in realisation and he started to struggle with renewed frantic energy. Konoha laughed. “I mean, I’m skiving classes, but it’s just a seminar. This is a professional athlete we’re talking here, you know.” They turned the corner and neared the gym, where a lone figure stood under an early-blooming sakura, nervously tossing a familiar dark blue satchel.

Cursing under his breath, Akaashi pulled and resisted valiantly to no avail as the two pushed him under the tree and promptly disappeared into the nearby bushes, leaving him alone with their old captain, who was a shade pinker than the flowers above their heads.

As formally as he could without appearing rude, Akaashi said, “Please go train with your team, Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto said, completely ignoring him, and held up the little blue satchel. “Do you know what this is?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No. This,” he shook the satchel enigmatically, and a button attached to the thin silver cord with a gold ribbon bounced into view. “This is the second button from my school blazer this time last year.”

Something clicked in his brain, and the blood must have rushed up from Akaashi’s legs into his face, because suddenly his knees felt like jelly and his head felt way too light. “You mean...”

“I know we don’t wear gakuran,” Bokuto mumbled, golden eyes darting everywhere but Akaashi’s face. “But like...it’s, that, you know? I didn’t, at the time, I didn’t think...”

Akaashi clenched his fingers at his sides and, in a wild fit of emotion, threw all caution to the winds.

“Bokuto-san, do you like me?”

In lieu of a response, Bokuto cupped his blushing cheeks and kissed him, the button pressing into his jaw.

Akaashi didn’t even realise he was crying until Bokuto dropped his hands and pulled back, looking horrified.

“Ah! I fucked up!” he yelped. “Sorry, Akaashi! I just wanted to do it. Like once. Sorry—“

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Akaashi growled, swiping furiously at the tears sliding down his cheeks. (At least they had a cooling effect.) “Do it again.”

“—I’m the worst after all, I’m just — eh?”

With more force than intended, Akaashi ripped his own second button off, shoved it into Bokuto’s face, then smashed their lips together once more.

When they pulled apart to catch their breath, Bokuto stammered out a confused, “Wait — but — I — you — huh??”

Akaashi rubbed his sleeve across his eyes and mumbled a faint “since first year”.

“But then,” gentle thumbs swiped at the teardrops rolling down his cheeks, cradling his jaw. “Why are you crying?”

Suddenly, Akaashi realised that they were standing so close together that he could smell the weird marshmallow shower gel Bokuto liked to use, but also the faint lavender from a certain blue perfume satchel.

The intimacy of the situation rushed through his body, making him shiver and take an even deeper inhale before shakily replying, “Because I’m happy, you stupid lump of a captain.”

Akaashi wrapped his arms tightly around Bokuto’s neck, resting his head against his rapidfire heartbeat and letting out a shuddery sigh when hands came to rest at the back of his jacket and fingers curl tentatively into his hair.

“You’re crying even more than when we won Nationals,” Bokuto whispered.

Akaashi snorted, then groaned, thudding his forehead against Bokuto’s chest.

“Fuck, what did you make me dddo? I haven’t taken my grad-graduation photos with my family yet, and I’ve ruined my - ruined my school uniform and my face is all - - bblotchy...”

“Wow, Akaashi stuttering.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Bokuto laughed (Akaashi felt the rumble in his chest, holy shit) and tilted his head up to examine his face.

Gentle gold met watery blue, and Bokuto nodded confidently, his smile brighter than the sun above their heads.

“Hey hey, don’t worry,” he murmured, brushing some curls away from Akaashi’s forehead. “You look even prettier than usual. And that’s saying a lot, you know? Think I should tell you more often.”

If Akaashi had been in his usual frame of mind, he would’ve been embarrassed by the sob that escaped his throat, but that would have to come later.

 

 

 

“Hey, uh, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto said, tapping his fingers on the table while Akaashi serenely watched people walk past outside the cafe, a city bathed in pink petals and the exhilaration of a new season. “Since when did you, yaknow, that thing?”

Akaashi sipped his coffee. “Since when did I what?”

“Errrr...the, the thing! The whole like thing! Since when did that...”

“Remember the first time you came to my house?”

“Yeah.”

Akaashi reached for Bokuto’s hand and rubbed his wrist, hiding his nervousness. “When Sakura-nee poked fun at me for bringing someone home. I felt more conscious of our relationship then, maybe because of our quick progression from teammates a year apart to a strong duo.”

As Bokuto pondered this new information, Akaashi added, “I also found it endearing that you differentiated my smell from my family.”

Bokuto took his hand, brought it up to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, then they both started to blush violently.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**official.**

When Akaashi finished his first day of university classes, more frazzled than he expected to be, Bokuto was waiting outside for him. He took a moment to appreciate how the setting sun reflected off the sports jacket, casting his animated features into dramatic shadow.

He called out, “Bokuto-san!” and watched as he perked up, spinning around, golden eyes glimmering. 

Bokuto bounced up to him, fluttered a kiss to the top of his curly hair, and announced, “98!”

“I told you to stop counting,” Akaashi sighed, but took his hand and squeezed it anyway.

“You look tired,” Bokuto said, peering at him.

“Understatement of the century.”

“Let’s go eat!”

Akaashi’s stomach growled happily in response, and Bokuto laughed. “That part hasn’t changed,” he teased, poking his tummy. Akaashi swatted his hand away and tried not to smile.

“Akaashi-kun?” They turned around, Akaashi recognising a girl from one of his seminars. Her eyes glimmered with interest. “You’re ... acquainted with a national athlete? Would never have guessed it.”

His eyes narrowed fractionally at the comment.

_What’s it to you?_

_Stay away. Mine._

He could feel Bokuto puff up with pride; Akaashi, however, maintained a calm expression and curled his fingers around his boyfriend’s bicep. “Yes,” he bit out, allowing a fraction of spite to creep into his voice. “I am acquainted with a national athlete. Intimately. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to go on. Let’s go, Koutarou.”

They left the school campus in silence, Akaashi’s ears burning hot after the provocation.

“So,” Bokuto said eventually, and Akaashi clenched his fingers a bit tighter. “It’s Koutarou now, huh?”

Oh, how he wanted to smack that cheeky grin off his face.

“That was the first time I heard you so jealous! Spicy, Akaashi!”

Resolutely staring ahead, Akaasi ignored the feeling of immense satisfaction swelling up in his chest.

“Hey, then am I allowed to call you Keiji from now on?”

Akaashi stopped dead in his tracks, causing Bokuto to halt and stare at him. “Akaashi?”

“Bokuto-san, how did that confrontation make you feel?”

Bokuto scratched his head thoughtfully. “Seriously? I dunno. Like, I’m happy that someone recognised me as a national athlete, but your reaction was even better!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like... _woah, Akaashi likes me enough to be pissed off by that girl_!” Bokuto laughed, oblivious to the spasm of emotions flitting across Akaashi’s expression. “Feels great! You really like me!”

Exhaling deeply, Akaashi slowly lowered his head to one side until it rested on Bokuto’s shoulder, their hands linked in-between. “In that case,” he murmured, “I think you can call me whatever you like.”

“Are pet names okay?”

“Depends.”

“Uwooooaaaahh!! Let me see! How about baby, do you like that? Or babe? Sweetheart? Angel face, sugar-pie, bubble butt. Keiji you’re shivering really hard, do you want my jacket?”

With every new name, Akaashi found it harder to repress the urge to kiss his ( _wonderful, stupidly observant, adorable_ ) boyfriend senseless despite being in the middle of the street.

“Koutarou,” he said, or rather breathed out as a sense of delight at using Bokuto’s first name rolled through him. “Shall we go see how your lavender plant is doing?”

Bokuto beamed then frowned. “I thought you had to unpack your dorm.”

“Fuck that.” He licked his lips, and Bokuto watched him, jaw going slack. “I can do it tomorrow.”

When Bokuto spoke again, his voiced was edged with gravel, and Akaashi felt some kind of smug possessiveness that was honestly childish but apparently love had made him stupid.

“Keiji,” he said, “I am going to come up with the most ridiculous pet names in the universe for you, and you’re gonna hate every single one of them.”

Akaashi’s mouth twisted into a smirky little smile, the same way he did right after one of his signature setter dumps. “Am I now,” he received Bokuto’s gaze dead-on, fluttering his eyelids just to tease. “Bring it on, _prince charming_.”

 

 

 

[From: Koutarou: oh best one!! floofyhead]

[From: Koutarou: cus your hair is always super floofy and it’s so cute (≧∀≦)]

[From: Koutarou: but i like sweetcheeks too that’s a classic]

[From: Koutarou: how about!! my little owlet ( ♡ᴗ♡ )]

[From: Koutarou: kuroo says i can combine your name with a pet name i didnt think of that before!!]

[From: Koutarou: Keiji-pie!!!]

[To: Koutarou: Go to sleep already, honey bun.]

[From: Koutarou: FFFFFFSGSKS KEIJI YOU HIT HARD IM ON THE FLOOR]

 

The sound of shuffling cardboard boxes stopped from behind the partition in his dorm room, and Ennoshita peered at him, sleepy eyes glinting with amusement. “Having fun in paradise? You’ve been making periodic squeaky noises. Or am I just confusing it with the sounds of the city?”

Akaashi waved his phone at him, not even bothering to lift his flushed face from his pillow where he was face-down on the bed. “He called me _Keiji-pie_ ,” he groaned. “I’m suffering. Ennoshita-san, I’m suffering, he’s too cute, I can’t take this.”

“Suffering from love, I see. Christ, it’s like living in a romcom.”

 

[From: Koutarou: you’re the QUEEN to my KING, Keiji!!!]

[To: Koutarou: Why can’t I be the king?]

[From: Koutarou: cus historically queens have always been better without the kings]

[[From: Koutarou: and i wouldn’t be better without you ;))) even tho i’m the best!!]

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Akaashi hissed to himself. “Being in a relationship with him is going to kill me.”

 

[To: Koutarou: Go to sleep, you have to be up in 6 hours.]

[From: Koutarou: awww no last pet name? (;*△*;)]

[To: Koutarou: Please go to bed before the sun shines, my sunshine.]

[From: Koutarou: HOLY SHIT I SELF-DESTRUCTED]

[To: Koutarou: Yes, you did. Sleep tight, Koutarou.]

[From: Koutarou: you too Keijiiiiiiiiii~~~!!!!!!!(o´〰`o)♡*✲ﾟ*。]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**surprise.**

At 01:24am on December 18th Akaashi was stressing over their end-of-semester/pre-Christmas tests so much that he didn’t even hear the repeated knocking at their door, so Ennoshita blearily crawled out of bed to answer it.

The first thing he said to their late night visitor was “Keep your voice down unless you want him to bite your head off.”

Bokuto nodded and kicked off his shoes. “Sorry for the intrusion,” he whispered, and Ennoshita thought that his eyes were too bright for the time of night. “I thought he’d be working himself to the bone, so I came to check up on him.”

 _To the bone is right_ , Ennoshita thought wryly, looking back to see if Akaashi had even noticed the open door.

He hadn’t.

“Be careful,” Ennoshita gestured to Akaashi’s side of the dorm. “He snapped at me yesterday for leaving a sock on the floor, it was kinda terrifying.”

“He always snaps at me, it’s fine,” Bokuto grinned. “Besides, I bet he hasn’t eaten in a while, yeah?”

Ennoshita looked at the bags in his hand and smiled. “Just go in.”

He watched as Bokuto tiptoed across the floor, Akaashi still engrossed in his studying; then Bokuto moved some books away and placed the food on his desk, put a comforting hand gently between his shoulder blades and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Akaashi’s eyebrows stayed furrowed, but he let out an audible breath as his shoulders dropped and relaxed like Bokuto had removed a hundred weights from them.

Ennoshita went back to bed.

 

 

 

“Time’s up!” announced the examiner, and a collective groan of relief sounded across the exam hall. The flurry of exam papers started passing to the front, and people began to leave.

Ennoshita passed Akaashi’s desk and patted his shoulder, to which he stood up dumbly, grabbed his bag and followed him out of the exam hall, where people were pairing off and going to celebrate, cold winter wind whipping everyone’s noses red.

They waved to Kenma, who had already immersed himself in his game, presumably going home to hide in his blankets and play until the sun rose the next day or until Kuroo went to drag him out, whichever came first. 

“Got any Christmas plans?” Ennoshita nudged him. “I’m getting the train back to Miyagi, so I’ll catch you later.”

“Say hi to Hinata and the rest for me,” Akaashi murmured, clutching the strap of his shoulder bag. “Koutarou’s running late.”

“Ok, lovebirds, enjoy your Christmas!” Ennoshita waved, turning to head back to their dorm. Akaashi waved back, and stumbled over to a nearby bench, pulling out his phone.

 

[From: Koutarou: be here soon! just some things to take care of (^_^;)]

[From: Koutarou: i have a xmas surprise for you!!!!!]

[To: Koutarou: Ok, I’ll be waiting]

 

Around ten minutes later, Bokuto skidded to a stop in front of him, still wearing his National Team jacket with the sleeves rolled up. A thick blue scarf was tied around his neck.

“Sorry I’m late!” he panted, eyes gleaming in the wintry afternoon light. Akaashi took his arms and began to roll his sleeves back down. “Did the exam go well? Do you want to talk about it?”

“One day you will freeze to death because of these stupid sleeves,” Akaashi muttered. “They will never be able to fulfil their purpose. No, I don’t want to talk about the exam. Where are we going?”

“Uh...” Bokuto produced a blindfold from his trouser pocket and grinned apologetically. “Surprise?”

Akaashi gave him a flat look. “Really?”

“Sorry, Keiji,” Bokuto said, not sounding very sorry. “I swear it’s worth it.”

Akaashi sighed and slipped his glasses into his shoulder bag, then Bokuto wrapped the cloth around his eyes and knotted it at the back of the head.

“Just trust me,” he whispered, taking both his hands and squeezing them. “You’ll probably figure out at some point anyway.”

“Probably,” Akaashi agreed, and followed Bokuto out of the campus with a reassuring arm wrapped around his waist.

 

 

 

“Oh my god,” someone drawled, delighted. “I didn’t think he’d actually let you blindfold him.”

“Trust is an important factor in relationships, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said dryly.

“Kenma would never let me blindfold him,” Kuroo sighed. There was some shuffling, and a loud smack, then Kuroo groaned. Akaashi took that to mean that Bokuto had probably injured him somehow.

“Nor would Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s voice chimed in somewhere on their left. “But I’d let him blindfold me, so it’s unfair!”

“Shut up!” Bokuto shouted, tugging Akaashi forward while Kuroo sniggered somewhere. “You guys let me do what I gotta do!”

“Koutarou,” Akaashi tried, as he carefully made his way up some stairs. “Why are we at your house? I thought —“

“Don’t think,” Bokuto interrupted, pulling him up the final step. “Just leave everything to your wonderful boyfriend! Here, hold this.”

A small pot was thrust into his arms, the faint scent of lavender wafting up. “Why am I holding your plant?”

The blindfold slipped off Akaashi’s eyes, and he took in his surroundings, blinking at Bokuto’s room.

Stripped bare.

“Ok so this is part one of the surprise,” Bokuto darted around, picking up little knickknacks here and there in the threadbare room. “Do you want a hint to part two?”

“How many parts are there?”

“Uh, four.”

Akaashi narrowed his gaze at him. “Hint me.”

Bokuto held up a sports magazine and a fashion magazine. “Ready to have the blindfold on again?”

Akaashi took one last look at the blank room, then down at the SETTER 5 clumsily engraved in the lavender pot, trying to piece the information together in his mind. “Go on, then.”

 

 

 

The blindfold was untied with a flourish.

“Part three!” Bokuto announced, kicking off his shoes. “So while you were working your ass off for the semester exams, I was getting this big thing done!”

Scrutinising the mess in the corridor, Akaashi leaned down to inspect the pictures on top of a set of drawers against the wall, opposite to a messy shoe rack; Bokuto with his little sister, Bokuto with his gigantic family, Bokuto with the Fukurodani team, Bokuto with the national team.

Bokuto with Akaashi in front of the carousel at Tokyo Disneyland last Christmas, where Kuroo had taken like 30 pictures in which they posed, then Bokuto had grabbed him and kissed him and Kuroo had gotten another 30 terrible pictures of that too. The one on the drawer was the last taken photograph when they’d pulled apart, laughing into each other’s mouths, the golden carousel a magical blur behind them. When they’d looked at the photos afterwards, Akaashi grudgingly admitted that Kuroo’s photography skills weren’t _that_ bad, but what he didn’t say was he’d never seen himself look so carefree and relaxed before; Bokuto must have kissed him silly. He touched its dark wooden frame and smiled slightly.

Meanwhile, Bokuto had run down the short corridor, tripped over a box, and was now laughing at himself as he lay on the floor with a new bruise forming on his forehead.

“Bokuto Koutarou,” Akaashi said, still staring at the framed picture on the drawers. “With what money did you do all this?”

“Part two!” He sat up and frowned. “I thought you might’ve figured it out, but I guess you’re brain dead from the exam. Come in!”

Still holding the fragrant plant, Akaashi took off his shoes and stepped into the flat, walking over to Bokuto, who picked himself up and led him into the bedroom.

“I’ve been in the team for...three years now? And of course we’ve been sponsored by companies and brands, but a few months ago a bunch of us got an upgrade.” Bokuto waved the sports magazine around. “Some of the companies wanted us specifically to actually advertise their stuff! So cool!”

Akaashi took the magazine from him and began flipping through it single-handedly.

“They really liked our dynamic,” Bokuto took the plant from Akaashi and placed it gently by the windowsill, “So they wanted me, Kuroo and Oikawa to shoot a clothes ad! Oikawa’s been asked to model before, but I never thought...”

 _The new line of athletes,_ read the double-paged spreadsheet. _Charming. Youthful. Victorious._

“I wouldn’t describe Kuroo-san as youthful,” Akaashi murmured, as he traced his fingers over the printed image of Bokuto sitting on the volleyball court, caught mid-laugh with Kuroo and Oikawa who were lying next to him and posing ridiculously respectively. Clearly, this had been after practice, because there was the familiar flush and sweaty skin, all three of them wearing the iconic red Japan team jersey. “But this is a very natural photograph.”

“Oh turn to the next page!” Bokuto steered him towards the bed and plopped down, vibrating with excitement. “The next one is...well, you’ll see.”

Another double-paged spread. The background was completely smoke grey with some paragraphs scattered around the edges. On the left, Oikawa stretched in a tight black workout suit that accentuated his body; on the right, Kuroo stood tall in lazy black sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt with a windbreaker half-off his shoulders. Both their outfits were accentuated with silver.

Akaashi took everything else in a hasty glance, eyes wide and fixated on Bokuto’s cheeky camera smile. Dressed in a white muscle shirt with golden lines running down the sides, and marbled white leggings that stopped mid-calf. Leaning forward, hands on his hips, head cocked to one side, oozing confidence. With the monochrome composition positioning him as the sole brightest focus in the entire shoot.

“Oh man, they did NOT like that one,” Bokuto grinned, Akaashi having been rendered speechless. “But the producers loved it. Oh you haven’t seen the other one!” He grabbed the fashion magazine and flipped it open. “Oikawa’s the focus, but I got to play around too! I think Kuroo was off doing science stuff.”

White tux, black shirt, golden-yellow tie. Lounging on a red velvet armchair. His jacket was unbuttoned and the shirt collar was open and the tie was loose but that only served to emphasise Oikawa, straight-backed and formal in regal teal.

Regardless, Akaashi could not tear his eyes away from the white figure on the page, to him so carelessly radiating attractiveness with borderline arrogance.

Next to him, Bokuto grimaced. “The shoes pinched my toes really badly, but it paid off, cuz after all that I got to splurge on a deposit for this place! Well my parents helped a little bit but they said it was a Christmas present and that I should save some of it. So.”

“Holy shit,” Akaashi said.

“I know! And I guess I made a good impression because they said they’d be in touch! Not the obligatory kind too, they were really happy with how everything turned out so they were pretty enthusiastic!”

“Holy shit,” Akaashi repeated.

“I can’t believe I just used the word deposit in a sentence,” Bokuto frowned. “Am I an adult n—mmf!”

Akaashi kissed him fiercely, tangling his fingers in white hair, leaning forward until Bokuto was making weak noises beneath him while pressed against the mattress.

“Are you proud of me?” Bokuto breathed out once Akaashi had tore his face away to gulp in oxygen. “Do you like the surprise, Keiji?”

“So proud,” Akaashi hissed reverently, stroking his thumb over Bokuto’s lips and effectively shutting him up. “Holy shit, Koutarou, I’ve never been prouder in my life —“

“Ah! I forgot!” Bokuto sat them up, patting his trouser pockets and pulling out a key with a little silver owl dangling from it. “Part four,” he took Akaashi’s hand and closed his fingers over the key. “This is yours.”

“What...?”

Bokuto cleared his throat, suddenly looking nervous. “We...uh...we’ve been _us_ for nearly two years now, right?”

“Dating? 21 months, yes.”

“Yeah. We’ve been — close — for 5 years, and I wouldn’thavegottenthroughifyouweren’theretohelpme, so I thought...maybe...we could consider...living together? Since you complain about your dorm neighbours so much...oh god Keiji, please don’t cry!”

Akaashi slumped forward onto Bokuto’s shoulder, trying to control his sniffling.

“Are you gonna start crying every time I do a big reveal?” Bokuto asked, worried. “You don’t have to! I just thought it’d be nice, you know, or you could just use the key if you wanna come visit, or...” he trailed off, grabbing tissues from a box on his nightstand. “Baby, please say something.”

Snatching the tissues, Akaashi blew his nose violently, eyes shining with unshed tears. “New Year,” he croaked out, wrapping his legs around Bokuto’s waist.

“Hm?”

“I’ll move in around-around January.” Akaashi hiccuped and gave him a watery smile. “Thank you for the Christmas surprises, sunshine.”

Bokuto gaped at him for a moment, then punched the air in victory, radiant with joy. “YES!!” he shouted, and began to dot kisses all around Akaashi’s tear-stained cheeks, who groaned and started swatting at him. “I’m gonna be living with Akaashi Keiji,” he whispered with unbridled delight, muffled between kisses. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Akaashi gave up on resisting and laid back, letting Bokuto crawl over him and rest himself on his chest; in that moment, he felt an immeasurable sense of contentment, skating his fingers down Bokuto’s spine.

“Me too,” he exhaled, closing his eyes. “I love you too.”

 

 

 

“So part one was the moving out, part two the incredible amount of advertising contracts you managed to sign, part three the moving in, and part four my key.”

“Yep.”

“What was the point of me moving the final object here?”

“Symbolism!” Bokuto frowned. “Setter 5 is you.”

Akaashi poked his waist. “I knew that,” he said. “Was it something like ‘I should move my spirit into the new house?’”

Bokuto shrugged. “I just wanted you to do it. It felt important.”

Akaashi hummed, curling into Bokuto as they sat side-by-side, leaning against the headboard. “What shall we do for Christmas Day?”

“I haven’t thought of that yet,” Bokuto admitted. “I was too busy worrying about part four.”

Something like a wisp of laughter escaped Akaashi’s throat.

“How about a double date?” Bokuto suggested. “We could go to Disney Sea this year! Like last year when we went to Disney with Kuroo and Kenma.”

“Maybe we should just stay inside this year,” Akaashi pressed his ear to Bokuto’s heart, neck bent at an awkward angle. “Now that you have a cosy flat to yourself, we can do whatever we like, my love.”

It was almost amusing to hear how quickly his heartbeat sped up.

“That’s good too,” Bokuto agreed, voice a bit strangled. “Let’s try baking. Or something. Whatever you want, Keiji.”

“Whatever?”

“Your wish is my command, milord.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**origin.**

About three months into cohabitation life, the Fukurodani team stormed in for a housewarming party, read “a prime opportunity to mock what Kuroo teasingly called ‘the married life’”.

Konoha took one look at their bedroom and laughed.

“You can totally see who sleeps on which side,” he smirked. “Isn’t the housewife meant to be picking up after the husband? What’s with the discarded sock army on the floor, guys?”

On the left side of the room, everything was immaculate; the neat nightstand, the columns of books and notes arranged and stacked alongside the wall.

“I’m not the housewife,” said Akaashi.

Bokuto raised his hand. “I am.”

On the right side of the room, everything was pure chaos; clothes were falling out of the wardrobe, there were things scattered all over the area, and of course the threatening sock army that stopped just before the middle of the room.

“Why is Bokuto the housewife,” Komi asked, putting air quotes around the last word.

Bokuto glanced furtively at Akaashi, who raised an eyebrow at him, then stage-whispered to Komi, “‘Cause Keiji can’t cook for shit.”

“I can make salad,” Akaashi objected. “You just don’t appreciate it.”

Sarukui shook his head. “That doesn’t count, what about stuff that needs to be cooked?”

“Instant noodles.”

The whole team shook their heads at him.

“I’m messy, but I’m a good cook, and I’ve got more time to clean than a uni student has, so I’m the housewife!” Bokuto explained.

“You _clean_?” Konoha pressed a hand to a chest and staggered backwards in mock horror. “You’re a changed man, Bokuto Koutarou!”

“ _Hey!_ ”

“Your correctional sentence has served you well.” Sarukui took Akaashi’s hand and shook it emphatically. “Well done, officer.”

“Why are you guys so mean to me! I’m responsible too! I’m the one who got this place!”

“Hm,” Akaashi said, a fairly convincing portrayal of thoughtfulness. “That is true. However you are still a very bad housewife.”

“AGGHAASHIII YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE.”

“How has nothing changed,” Washio muttered. Komi grinned and shouted, “Maybe for the housewarming party we should finally expose Akaashi for once!”

“No,” Akaashi said, sharp, as Bokuto swivelled around in interest. “There is nothing to expose.”

Konoha flopped onto their creaky sofa, radiating smugness. “Better get us something to drink then. Come on, chop chop, before we start talking about a _star_.”

“Do _not_ ,” Akaashi said, mildly threatening, and hesitantly left the room to fetch something for their (now unwanted) guests.

“What’s this all about?” Bokuto wailed. “I wanna know! You’re keeping secrets from me!”

Komi sat down next to Konoha. “Say Bokuto,” he began, light as anything. “You remember when we played the elimination rounds in first year?”

“Yeah! I played for a full set one time!”

“Great, that’s the one. There were two junior high third years in mauve uniform watching the match, remember that?”

“Maybe?”

“Guys,” Washio said, a warning edged in his voice.

Akaashi came back with a couple of bottles, glaring at Komi. “Stop right there, thank you.”

“Kei-jiii,” Bokuto groaned as everyone else grabbed a drink. “Why?? It’s just two guys watching the awesome me!”

Without responding to his despondent boyfriend, Akaashi disappeared once more while muttering something about getting snacks. Komi and Konoha shared a look, then the latter leaned forward conspiratorially.

“Remember the first practice of second-year when all the first-years were still wearing their old uniforms because they didn’t have new ones yet?”

“Yeah! Man, Akaashi looked real smart in mauve.”

There was the faint sound of something breaking in the kitchen.

“Oh no!” Bokuto darted out of the room to go check on the noise. The remaining guests shook their heads in disbelief.

“Can’t believe it hasn’t clicked yet,” Sarukui sighed.

Komi laughed. “I mean, can you blame him? It’s like something straight out of a romance novel, following a sports crush to high school.”

“Remember the look on his face the first time Bokuto asked him to stay behind and practice with him,” Konoha chortled. “Even though Bokuto kept getting his name wrong! The kid was not subtle.”

Washio gave a grudging smile. “Starstruck,” he offered.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Precisely at that moment, Bokuto darted back into the room, Akaashi following behind him. “No one’s hurt!” he chirped. “And we got chips! Hey, what’s this about being starstruck and not subtle?”

Akaashi’s expression promised murder and destruction, but since he couldn’t say anything that would give the whole game away/provoke the others into saying more incriminating games, the team just laughed at him. Unhappy about being left out of what seemed like a massive inside joke, Bokuto was apt to be pouting at random intervals for the rest of the day.

(“Are you ever gonna tell him?” Konoha asked when Bokuto was in the toilet. “It’d make him really happy, you know.”

“I was stupid and impressionable. That’s all.”

“That blush is telling us a different story, though.”

Akaashi was still hitting him when Bokuto came back into the room.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 **fear.**  
****

 

 

On a cool autumn’s night, Akaashi had a dream.

Dream Akaashi stood in a white place, white as far as the eye could see. He was wearing a shimmery golden slip, but it was so worn out that much of the shimmer had faded and the fabric was torn in places.

In the distance there was a familiar figure with spiky tufts of white-grey hair shot through with black strands. There was nothing else to do, so he began to walk towards it.

The more he walked, the smaller the figure seemed, until he began to quicken his steps and it turned into a light jog. Akaashi tried calling out his name, but he had no voice to call with.

All at once he was right behind the figure and realised that it was but a child, reaching up to maybe his waist. Akaashi crouched down, and the child turned around, clutching a baby’s milk bottle.

“Hello,” said 7-year-old Bokuto, his empty expression looking so cold and unfamiliar. Akaashi blanched at his eyes, which were a cloudy white instead of the usual brilliant gold. “Will you play with me?”

Still speechless, Akaashi nodded in response.

Child Bokuto took his hand and ran towards a nearby rope jungle. They began to climb in silence.

When they reached a sparse rope bridge, a baby’s crying began echoing somewhere Akaashi could not see, and Child Bokuto looked at him expectantly. “Kiyo needs her bottle,” he stated plainly, pointing to the other side of the rope bridge, where the ropes had expanded into a massive intricate wall of which Akaashi could not see the other side. “Come meet me. I’ll wait for you there.”

 _Wait,_ Akaashi tried to say.

But he disappeared, leaving Akaashi behind.

The room shifted, and Akaashi found himself buried in a massive expanse of pillow-sized pink marshmallows.

 _Keiji?_ someone whispered, booming from the heavens, causing Akaashi to whip his head around, frantically searching for the source of the voice. 

_Keiji, I’m here._

“Koutarou,” he rasped out, voice scratchy as if he hadn’t spoken in years, and broke out into a mad sprint. His limbs weighed like a hundred pounds, tiredness sweeping through his body.

Still he ran and tripped and climbed over the marshmallows in search of Bokuto.

_Keiji...!_

Akaashi pushed aside a gigantic heavy marshmallow, grunting with effort and growing more distressed by the second. There was a child lying on the ground.

 _Calm down, Keiji!_ The voice grew louder; Akaashi fell to his knees and inspected Child Bokuto, who lay unmoving on his side and was tightly clutching a baby doll to his chest. He could hear his own heartbeat, pounding through the field of marshmallows and thudding through the ground with its speed and intensity.

Child Bokuto’s eyelids fluttered open to reveal twin black voids.

_Keiji, it’s okay!_

Akaashi watched, paralysed, as Child Bokuto sat up, swivelled around and finally faced him with some weird sixth sense. “I can’t see,” he said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world that his eyes were just _fucking gone_. “Akaashi, what do you look like?”

The baby doll turned its head, its eyes shining as golden as the sun. Akaashi fell backwards onto a heap of marshmallows, transfixed with horror at the sight.

Child Bokuto rose to his feet, still holding the baby doll, and cocked his eyeless head to the side. “Akaashi,” he repeated, expression blanker than anything Akaashi had ever seen in real life. “What do you look like?”

_Wake up, Keiji, wake up!_

“Wake up,” Akaashi whispered, scrabbling his nails as he began to sink into the marshmallows under him, like quicksand, their sweet scent cloying and suffocating.

_Yeah! That’s it! Just a dream, Akaashi, whatever it is!_

“Just a dream,” Akaashi told himself as Child Bokuto stepped towards him, head still tilted in blank curiosity. “Bokuto-san, it’s just a dream.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away as both Child Bokuto and the baby doll reached out their hands towards his face. “Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream—”

_WAKE UP, KEIJI—!_

Akaashi bolted up in bed, gasping for breath, eyes wide open and pupils dilated in fear.

The bedside light switched on and suddenly Bokuto was right in front of him, cupping his face in his hands, eyebrows scrunched together, golden eyes darting worriedly.

Lifting his sweaty palms, Akaashi felt his way up Bokuto’s body, fingers trembling as they skimmed over his solid form and finally came to rest on his jaw.

“You have eyes,” Akaashi whispered, voice shaky. Bokuto was frowning.

“Keiji, are you okay?” he said lowly, gaze fixed steadily on him. “You were moving around. A lot. You never move in your sleep..."

Akaashi exhaled, breath still short and his heart beating in short frantic pulses. “What do I look like?”

The worried look deepened. “What do you mean?”

“You were quiet,” Akaashi whispered, on the verge of a sob, taking big shuddery breaths. “And you left me. And your eyes were...and you couldn’t see me. You didn’t know what I looked like. Bokuto-san, what do I look like?”

Tears slid out, unbidden and unwanted, swiped away by gentle thumbs; Akaashi’s unsteady hands rested limply on Bokuto’s hips.

“What do you look like?” Bokuto, surprisingly, did not start freaking out over Akaashi’s dream. “You look the same as you always do, Keiji. Just a little scared is all.”

Still not saying a word, Akaashi let himself weep, the empty feeling of the dream not dissipating from his mind. Bokuto wrapped a steadying arm around his shoulders, lifting his other hand to the top of Akaashi’s head, twirling the strands around his thick fingers.

“Messy black curls,” he murmured, then slid his hand down to Akaashi’s face, tracing the parts as he spoke. “Strong eyebrows. The prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life, never seen a colour or intensity like yours, Keiji.” He leaned forward and touched their noses together with a little smile. “Cute little button nose that you won’t let me boop.”

Akaashi leaned their foreheads together, hands curling around Bokuto’s waist in encouragement. His shuddering began to die down.

“Gorgeous mouth that’s been berating me for years, but I still wanna kiss it at every possible moment. Jawline sharper than any model I’ve seen.” His hand ghosted down Akaashi’s neck and arm until it tangled with Akaashi’s fingers. “Nice lean body that can support me. Hands that I never wanna let go of. Not to mention the rest of you that I could write entire sonnets on. Like, have you seen your legs? You could step on me and I would thank you, love.”

Akaashi let out a broken laugh and gripped his hand tightly, eyelashes clumping together with the final few tears. Bokuto moved their heads apart, fixing Akaashi with the most serious gaze that was simultaneously comforting and full of affection.

“I can see you, Akaashi Keiji, I can see you very clearly. And I will never be able to un-see you. So use that clever logical mind of yours and _stuff that stupid dream where the sun don’t shine_.”

“Mmhm.” Akaashi clutched tightly at Bokuto’s shoulder blades, overwhelmed by the protectiveness shown by the real thing after the terrifying child in his dream. The emptiness in him had been replaced with warmth and security. “Okay.”

They stayed in embrace for a few more tender moments, until Akaashi scrunched up his nose —

“God your sleep breath is terrible.”

Bokuto’s familiar indignant squawk was cut short as Akaashi kissed him regardless, pouring unspoken gratitude and love from his lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**dilly dilly.**

Bokuto always picked up his phone after two rings, which was great because Kenma had no patience when it came to phone calls (or loud people) in general.

“Hey hey! Kenma! What’s up?”

Kenma grimaced at the raucous voice booming out of his cellphone, and delivered his message as quickly and bluntly as possible. “Akaashi’s super drunk. Come take him home. I’ll text you the address. Bye.”

“Wait wh—”

He hung up, sent the text, and immediately switched apps back to his game, occasionally glancing up to check that Akaashi was still in the room.

Not a difficult task given the horrible rowdiness that was going on in that corner of the bar.

 

 

 

The celebration was being held in honour that their study group of 12 people had passed their final finals with some of the highest grades, as well as acing the group project that they had been assigned as the last hurdle — aimed for the film studies students to collaborate and throw in every single talent they had.

In their group, Akaashi had been the sole provider of all the background and character base photographs, stressed beyond belief and ultimately coming up with over 1000 shots then whittling down to less than half of that. Even Kenma, as the animator, had had 3 other animators working with him.

So it was just a little bit understandable why he had completely let loose, but Kenma mostly blamed it on Bokuto’s bad influence.

The bar door slammed open and the man himself rushed into the room, making a beeline for Kenma huddled next to a half-empty apple cider.

“Hey! Thanks for the call! Congrats on everything!”

Kenma let himself smile a little, gaze flickering to meet Bokuto’s cheerful face.

“Get Akaashi and go,” he replied in lieu of thanks. “And make him drink water, because he’s had like 4 bottles to drink.”

Bokuto whirled around to gape at Akaashi, who was standing on a table, arguing with a girl while clutching an empty shot glass.

“KEIJI!” he yelled, laughing. The entire room fell silent and watched as he sauntered up to the table. “Time to go home!”

Akaashi blinked at him with hazy eyes, beamed with flushed cheeks, then went careening down from the table like a puppet with cut strings. 

If Bokuto hadn’t been there to catch him, he would have broken his neck.

“Trust fall,” he whispered, giggling as Bokuto dragged the rest of him off the table and gathered him into a bridal lift. The entire bar broke out into whispers (Kenma rolled his eyes) as Akaashi flung his arm around Bokuto’s shoulders and patted him on the cheek with his other hand. “Hello, my king.”

Bokuto pressed his cheek to Akaashi’s overly-hot one and sighed. “Oh Keiji,” Akaashi nuzzled his shoulder, and he had no choice but to smile tenderly at the drunk beauty in his arms. “Baby, you really can’t handle your alcohol.”

“Nope,” Drunk Akaashi chirped, swinging his legs happily. He popped the “p” so obnoxiously that Normal Akaashi would have scowled at him.

The girl hopped down from the table and raised her eyebrows at them. “So,” she said, completely ignoring Bokuto. “This is your boyfriend?”

Akaashi twisted his neck to glare at her, body going tense. “All mine.”

“Nice catch,” a guy muttered in the background.

“Which one though?” someone else whispered back.

“Mood,” muttered a distinctly Kenma-ish voice.

The girl’s ( _bitchy_ , Bokuto decided) gaze narrowed even further, attention turning to Bokuto, eyeing him up and down. “National athlete, huh?” she asked, voice dripping with negativity. “Lots of brawn, but no brains, huh?”

Ennoshita materialised out of nowhere, expression thick with distaste. “Ayane, shut your mouth,” he said quietly, looking apologetically at Bokuto who stood seething (on Akaashi’s behalf more than anything). 

“Yeah, _Ayane-san_ ,” Akaashi jeered, wriggling in Bokuto’s arms. “Koutarou, let me up, I have things to say.”

Bokuto’s attention immediately snapped to him, eyes wide with worry. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good, Keiji...”

“I always look good.” Akaashi pushed himself up onto the table, legs wobbly but jaw set firm.

Kenma came to stand next to Bokuto, who stared slackjawed at his normally so calm and reserved boyfriend. “What is _with_ him today?” he marveled. Kenma sighed.

“Alcohol,” he muttered, turning his gaze to where everyone was staring. “Also, you don’t know this, but even at school he gets _super_ prickly whenever anyone says anything vaguely belittling about you. And that was probably the last straw.”

Up on the table, Akaashi began his self-proclaimed speech.

“Since the beginning of uni, people have been saying that I have a boyfriend.” He waved a hand at Bokuto. “As you can see this is true.”

Some of the guys wolf-whistled; Ennoshita shook his head and smiled ruefully.

“People have also been saying that I’m a beautiful guy.”

“Shameless much?” Kenma whispered, and Bokuto clapped his hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t interrupt Akaashi’s monologue with his chuckling.

“And _some_ people are saying that I’m too pretty to be off the market at the youthful age of 22.”

He looked towards Ayane, smiling so dangerously that everyone in the bar shuddered.

“I’m here to say _fuck you, my lover is hotter and kinder and stronger than you._ He’s better than every single one of you. And I’m gonna go home with him now, so bye-bye.”

As the bar erupted into gleeful cheers, Akaashi crouched down and leaned into Bokuto’s personal space, eyes sparkling with drunken pride, cheeks apple-red and radiating warmth. “Did I do good?” he asked shyly with a little hiccup.

Bokuto cradled his face, tucking bits of curls behind his red ears and blushing up a storm. “God you’re so fucking drunk,” he choked out, kissing his nose softly then sealing their lips together with the roar of Akaashi’s classmates in the background.

Ennoshita sidled up to Kenma, who had recorded the entire speech without anyone noticing. “Think we just witnessed a shotgun wedding.”

“I’m saving this and sending it to him first thing tomorrow morning,” Kenma murmured, eyes alight, his phone still aimed steadily in their direction, where Bokuto had pulled away and was now trying to convince Akaashi to get down from the table. “God this is hilarious.”

“I’d say it’s really sweet, but okay.” Ennoshita watched Ayane storm out of the bar, then laughed when everyone else began to sing Somebody To Love in the background.

Bokuto had managed to hoist Akaashi onto his back, where his adrenaline had already faded away and his drunkenness had entered the exhausted stage. “See you guys,” he called. Akaashi waved a limp hand at them.

“Get home safe,” Ennoshita replied, and Kenma waved back. “See you in a week, Akaashi!”

They could hear Bokuto talking softly to the drowsy boy on his back, and the bar door shut behind them.

 

 

 

“That was so wild, Keiji,” Bokuto said, as he carried Akaashi through the dark city streets. “Wow. Akaashi Keiji loves me this much. I am THE luckiest man alive. Wow, Keiji!”

Akaashi murmured something against his nape, then raised his head, blue eyes soft under the streetlights. “Kou, can you sing me something?”

“Huh?”

“I like your singing.” Akaashi kissed the side of his neck. “Soft. Scratchy. So nice. I like this shirt too. Looks good. Everything is good. I like you.”

“Babe, if you don’t stop saying these cute drunken things, I’m going to start crying, and I think I’ve already started.”

Akaashi giggled — a small puff of air that would make anyone coo — then settled into silence.

Bokuto thought back to years ago, the first time he met Akaashi’s family, the first time he’d been surrounded by Akaashi’s things and his sweet smell and his incredible overflowing sense of calm, the sweet little lullaby he’d learned a couple weeks before that and had hummed himself to sleep with in Akaashi’s room.

“Keiji,” he began, squeezing Akaashi’s thighs around his waist. “When I first met you I had no clue what lavender smelled like.”

“I know,” Akaashi said softly. “You told me. I remember.”

“But I learned the sweetest nursery rhyme afterwards, and it had everything to do with lavender.”

The little puff of air again. “Fate,” Akaashi whispered. Bokuto laughed. “Maybe,” he continued, “But for a long time now the song just makes me think of you, Keiji. I never told you cus you usually hate this kind of cheesy stuff, so I figured...”

“I don’t hate that,” Akaashi slurred, voice drifting from the previous stupor into sudden sharp clarity. “I love it. I love it when you show up after school with flowers like some Victorian gentleman wooer. I love it when you leave me badly wrapped onigiri and a cute note for lunch. I love it when you make up weird pet names for me. Cheese like that, from you, I love it all.”

Bokuto smiled to himself. “I know, but you sure don’t show it. Sometimes I dunno what ya want from me, Keiji. Never really have.”

“Hm.” Akaashi yawned. “Dunno. Nothing. Everything. Sing me the stupid lullaby.”

Their apartment building began to surface in the distance as Bokuto started to sing softly.

 

_Lavender blue dilly dilly_

_Lavender green,_

_When I am King dilly dilly_

_You shall be Queen..._

 

 

 

“Sleepyhead, you need to drink water now or you’ll hate me in the morning.”

Akaashi, having been changed into a loose t-shirt and stripped of his jeans, burrowed into their blankets, leaving Bokuto sitting exasperated on the bed with a glass of water. “Lemme sleep,” he mumbled. “Lie down.”

“I won’t cuddle with you unless you drink at least two more glasses, Keiji. Now sit up.”

Akaashi whimpered and gave him the big sad eyes.

“One more glass,” Bokuto gave in. “Come on, Keiji-baby, don’t make me force this down you.”

Wrapped in a cocoon, Akaashi slowly sat up, taking the glass gingerly as Bokuto placed a steadying hand on his back. “Good job, little drunkard,” he whispered, setting the emptied glass on their nightstand, mentally reminding himself to fill it and grab the painkillers once Akaashi, who was now leaning heavily into him, had dozed off. “You can sleep now, ok?”

They lay in silence for a while, Akaashi nestling his head into the hollow of Bokuto’s neck, their legs tangled together into a mess. 

“Koutarou, I think I’m sober now,” Akaashi muttered dazedly. Bokuto snorted, patting his messy curls. “The hell you are,” he replied. “Shut your eyes and sleep already.”

A bit more time passed, and Bokuto eased himself out of bed once Akaashi started letting out his cute little snores, tiptoeing into the bathroom to clean his teeth and prepare all the necessities for Akaashi’s incoming hangover.

When he re-entered their bedroom, Akaashi was halfway off the bed, as if he’d been struggling to climb off headfirst. He set down the water and medicine on the nightstand, then rushed to his side. “Keiji, what are you doing?”

Akaashi pushed his face into Bokuto’s chest. “You were gone,” he said, small and vulnerable. Warmth bloomed in Bokuto’s chest and he gently lifted his boyfriend back up, who blinked his dazed blue eyes at him. “I need to pee.”

Bokuto huffed out a tired laugh, pressing their foreheads together. “So demanding.”

Finally they settled in for the night, Akaashi curled inwards while Bokuto propped himself up on one elbow and brushed the curls away from his pretty face. “You good now, prince?”

Akaashi’s eyes fluttered, on the verge of slumber. “Queen,” he murmured. “Like the song. When you are King...I will be Queen. Sing it to me again, sunshine.”

So he did.

 

_Who told you so dilly dilly_

_Who told you so?_

_‘Twas my own heart dilly dilly_

_That told me so..._

 

 

 

Bokuto woke up blearily to a very irritable Akaashi shaking his shoulder.

“Whassamatter,” he yawned. “Meds are on the nightstand, Keiji.”

The shaking stopped, leaving Bokuto to wake up properly and watch with amusement as a groggy Akaashi tried to function with a hangover.

While Akaashi took his painkillers, Bokuto stretched out the crick in his neck and took the opportunity to chew quickly on a mint from the packet they kept in the bedside drawer just for lazy mornings like this. The moment Akaashi set down the glass, Bokuto grabbed his waist from behind and pulled him back under the covers.

“Ow,” Akaashi grumbled, all bark and no bite. “Be gentle, Koutarou...”

“That’s not what you said last night — fuck, Keiji, your elbow is really sharp!”

“I know.” Akaashi tilted his chin towards him, imperious, as if to say _what, no morning kiss?_ Bokuto grinned and began to flit kisses all over his face until Akaashi was choking back laughter.

“No more grumpy baby!” Bokuto kissed him properly on the lips this time. “And you were so nice to me last night too! I should get you drunk more often, Keiji!”

Akaashi stiffened in his arms. “What did I do.”

“Uh...”

He lunged for his phone somewhere next to the bed and immediately checked his messages; Bokuto hugged him, made to kiss him, and generally whined for attention, but failed to distract him from the video that Kenma had sent about an hour ago.

On screen, Drunk Akaashi was proclaiming his love for Bokuto while Ayane grew increasingly pissed. Hungover Akaashi was making slightly pained noises, the back of his neck and ears heating up speedily; Bokuto pressed his nose to the skin and breathed in the faint forever-lingering lavender scent that was trademark of the Akaashi family.

Drunk Akaashi was now making out with Bokuto in front of all his classmates. Hungover Akaashi let out a mortified whimper. “Never let me near alcohol again.”

“Keijiiiiiiii. It’s okay, everyone thought it was really sweet.”

“Yes, that’s the problem,” Akaashi twisted around, looking distressed. “I’m not sweet.”

Bokuto made a face at him. “That’s the fakest thing I ever heard. You handmade me a graduation present, Keiji. You’re a massive romantic sop.”

Akaashi glared at him. “I’m not sweet!”

“Says the person who shuffles up at 6am every morning to see me off to practice and demand a goodbye kiss.”

“Stop it.”

“Who was it who ordered a custom cake and a bouquet of roses for my 20th birthday again? Oh right, it was you...”

“Stop it!” Akaashi buried his face in his pillow and groaned. “Fuck, I’m such a romantic sop!”

Bokuto laughed and rolled over until he was draped over Akaashi, chest pressed against his back.

“What else did I do?” Akaashi’s voice was muffled from the pillow. “Might as well hear it all now.”

“Well,” Bokuto blew softly on the shell of his ear just to hear him squeak, “you DID straight up confess how much you loved it when I do cheesy stuff for you.”

There was some muffled swearing.

“You collapsed from a bar table with full confidence that I’d be there to catch you.”

He could feel Akaashi’s back rise up in a big exasperated breath.

“And you said you liked my singing. That was the most surprising one.”

The room was still for a minute, then Akaashi started to kick lightly at him, so Bokuto rolled back to let Akaashi flip over and brush thieir noses together, long fingers stroking tenderly down his chest. He rested his hand on Akaashi’s hip, rubbing his thumb across the jut of his hipbone.

“I vaguely remember you sang me something,” Akaashi whispered, blue eyes illuminatedby a strip of sunlight that had filtered through their curtains. Not for the first time, Bokuto thought he looked like a spirit; ethereal but intangible, delicate but powerful. “Maybe if you sing it again, it’ll jostle my memory.”

“Hm...” Bokuto smirked at him. “I think you just like my singing, darling.”

“An interesting theory.” A hint of a smile appeared on Akaashi’s serene expression, and he pushed his fingers into Bokuto’s chest, light and impatient, until his palm flattened over Bokuto’s heart. “Sing me your song, my love.”

Cuddled together in their bed, Bokuto curled his fingers under Akaashi’s jaw, smiled affectionately as he watched his eyes flutter shut, and sang,

 

_Lavender blue dilly dilly_

_Lavender green,_

_When I am King dilly dilly_

_You shall be Queen._

 

_Who told you so dilly dilly_

_Who told you so?_

_‘Twas my own heart dilly dilly_

_That told me so._

 

_Call up your men dilly dilly,_

_Set them to work,_

_Some to the plow dilly dilly,_

_Some to the fork._

 

_Some to make hay dilly dilly,_

_Some to cut corn,_

_While you and I dilly dilly,_

_Keep ourselves warm._

 

_Let the birds sing dilly dilly,_

_Let the lambs play,_

_We shall be safe dilly dilly,_

_Out of harm’s way._

 

_I love to dance dilly dilly,_

_I love to sing,_

_When I am Queen dilly dilly,_

_You'll be my King._

 

_Who told me so dilly dilly,_

_Who told me so?_

_I told myself dilly dilly,_

_I told me so._

 

_Lavender green dilly dilly,_

_Lavender blue,_

_If you love me dilly dilly,_

_I will love you._

**Author's Note:**

> three things:  
> 1\. i HATE the smell of lavender lmao but marshmallow shower gel is one of my fav things  
> 2\. the lullaby is awkward but it's my fav thing so it's gotta be in there and i apologise for that  
> 3\. title is taken from ch 331 because furudate really went and DID THAT it was like reading fanfic holy shit i -
> 
> thank you very much for reading, please leave opinions and such as you see fit, t h a n k s
> 
> edit 19/1/19: holy fucktoid it's only been a month and i already passed 800 hits?? thank you everyone who's enjoyed this!! for my new year's resolution i leapt over an anxious barrier and made a multifandom fan account on instagram (tumblr is not accessible for me and twitter has a shit tag system...i had a big long think about this) which is @silentlypunk_ where i post self-indulgent art and writing from time to time. so if you're interested please check it out and support, and if you don't that's fine too. thank you all so much -!


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